The Queen of Spades or The Ace of Spades
by aStoneFox
Summary: When an ancient prophecy threatens to tear apart her family, Freya Mikaelson unexpectedly comes face to face with an old acquaintance, Lucien Castle. As the story progresses, Freya is forced to resort to drastic measures to save everything she holds dear, but how much more can she take on her plate? Slightly darker and more powerful Freya. Rated M in the later chapters.
1. I Danced with a Devil Once

Author's Note: This is my first fanfiction ever! I'm not a native English speaker so I apologise in advance if I've made some grammar mistakes. Regardless, I hope you enjoy this story, I tried my best to do justice to Frucien.

 **September 2013, New Orleans**

Niklaus Mikaelson had been in a hellish mood ever since he got back from his nightly endeavours in Rousseau's. He had returned to the compound all murderous glares and snarky comments, just looking for a reason to pick a fight. Six agonizing hours later his older sister was the only one still present so he snapped at Freya yet again, this time for returning home so late the previous night and waking up Hope.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Niklaus, stop finding excuses for me to test my magic on you again, Hope barely stirred in her sleep when I got back."

Freya's voice finally rose a little, because even she, usually so calm and collected, was fed up with her brother's antics.

"Empty threats. We both know you're not as powerful anymore. Dahlia's gone and most of your power along with it."

As per usual, Klaus was never one to hold back insults. The witch's facial expression faltered slightly, but she quickly struck back:

"Is that so? Why don't you try and attack me, maybe we'll find out, just for the sake of your peace of mind of course?"

The hybrid stood up, almost lunging himself towards her.

"Maybe you should focus your revenge on someone a little bit more deserving, sister? I certainly have a few people in mind."

Freya smirked.

"I'm sure that you can take care of any rodent yourself just fine. You're not exactly a weakling."

This time there was definitely a glimmer of sadness in the young witch's eyes. Niklaus looked at her and his eyes widened, as if seeing something for the first time.

"I…" he began, but stopped himself abruptly and his face morphed into a huge grin.

"Right you are. I could rid _any_ potential enemy of their existence easily, but the trouble is this particular one really does have a _fondness_ for _witches_."

There was no mistaking the double meaning that lay behind his words. Freya suddenly had the urge to vomit, she could already envision it: young and pretentious vampire looking to abuse her and the craft she possessed for his own personal gain, but then, despite all these red warning signs flashing through her head, the witch thought better of it. Immortality or not, Freya Mikaelson was not powerless. Anyone who tried to hurt her the woman would hex for eternity.

"And how do I come into the equation, dear brother?" she finally replied. "If you want me to seduce that maniac, I'd kindly suggest you find someone else more fitting for the job."

Nik jumped to his defence immediately, somewhat appalled that his own flesh and blood would think him so vulgar.

"I wasn't…What I meant was, he could drop more hints about what havoc he plans to wreck in New Orleans in the upcoming months if asked nicely by an enticing witch, not the man who he considers a psychotic maniac who left him in the mud almost 1000 years ago."

"And the last person you're referring to is, let me _guess_ …"

"Me, yes."

Freya rolled her eyes at Nik and looked at him, brow furrowed.

"Fine."

A long pause followed, accompanied by a bitter sigh.

"I will do it, brother. Besides, it's not like I have anything better to do anyway other than taking care of my adorable niece and drinking endless amounts of tequila."

Niklaus admired his sister. He didn't imagine he could ever go through the painful adapting process to this brave new world her sister was doing so flawlessly at the moment. He also could have never put up with being stripped of most of his power as Freya now was.

"I'm sure you will make a lasting impression, weakling or not."

He really was going for comforting, but the words got twisted when they flew out of his mouth and her sister's rueful gaze vanished.

"May I please know the name of my target, before I leave and let you quietly hiss in peace?" she asked icily.

The Mikaelson witch then turned on her heel and started walking away, when Klaus called after her:

"You will find him in The Palace Royale suite under the name Lucien Castle."

At first, Freya thought she'd heard the name wrong. Then her face paled and she had a sudden sensation of falling down the rabbit hole. Somehow, step after step, she dragged herself out the door into the street without Niklaus noticing anything strange, thank god. Outside, she sank down against a wall and let the ancient memories flood through her brain.

 **September 1683, Vienna**

 **Right after the Battle between the Turks and the Austrians**

The Turkish encircling the magnificent Vienna had come at a last minute, Freya thought. She had compelled her lady's maid Amalia to keep an eye out for Dahlia at all costs and judging by her latest report it appeared that her aunt was stuck behind the troops of the Turkish army, struggling to get inside the city, where she'd find Freya in a matter of seconds: the poor dear was barely cloaked with spells, scared, alone and thus completely at the wicked witch's mercy.

If the news was true, it would buy her some time, but not much. The city was entirely cut off from the necessary supplies and support it so desperately craved. Of course, that also meant no one could get in, but only for now. The Austrian Habsburgs couldn't fight the countless Turkish troops for much longer and Dahlia could easily get past any kind of obstacle in her way, even the superior Turks couldn't rip the hearts out of their enemies faster than the woman of all evil.

Soon the enemies would be in the heart of the city and then…then…

Freya knitted her hands together tightly and sent a small prayer to the Gods in four languages, finishing with an old childhood riddle in her native tongue, Elder Futhark, an ancient tongue she barely remembered. It was a poem that her and Finn would chant repeatedly as children whenever something good happened. Over the many centuries and having to cope without her family by her side, she had begun to consider repeating the little poem before facing danger her talisman.

Frightened to the bone, but determined Freya pulled the hood of her dark grey cape over her head and slowly began to exit a small empty guesthouse in the heart of the city centre.

There had been about five people in the house on its best day, but everyone including the host had fled two weeks ago in fear of the Turkish invasion. She had chosen Les Trois Sœurs simply because it was the most nondescript, vague and impersonal little hotel anyone could find in Vienna. Only two storeys high, bleak white walls, not much furniture, crammed space and uninviting atmosphere, it was anything but nice.

When she awoke from her hundred-year beauty sleep in the 1500s, her first year on the run after escaping Dahlia, she had stayed in a beautiful château fit for a queen with mesmerizing marble sculptures and paintings made by the great Renaissance artists, even one of the early works of Michelangelo was displayed in the castle.

She had made it easy for her aunt to track her down and Freya couldn't allow herself to make the same mistake twice. The eldest Mikaelson had barely made it out with her life and snuck in one of the cemetery vaults, now Paris catacombs, where only the first one to enter would be able to step out alive.

Upon coming back to life a month ago she had learned from the witch community in Paris that there was a twin vault in Vienna that held the same abilities.

The problem was that Freya had know idea, where she could find the twin chamber, no one to help her and she was slowly, but surely running out of time.

The streets were almost empty. She was headed to the cemetery in Vienna, hoping the ancestral magic would be strong enough there and provide her with some answers. Freya bowed her head down and tried to lay as low as possible, her shoulders almost brushing the passing buildings.

Suddenly the young witch heard loud footsteps. They were too strong to belong to civilians _and too close._ She suppressed a scream.

About forty feet ahead of the elder Mikaelson, the cobblestone main road unraveled into three smaller marketing streets. There was just no way in telling which way the attackers were coming from, but she'd have to make a choice fast.

Desperately, Freya leapt to the right. When she noticed the empty street stretching out ahead of her the witch started running, relief threatening to overwhelm her.

It wasn't until her head hit a stone wall and a hand closed around her throat that she realised she had been backed into a corner.

It was a bloody dead end.

There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to run, it was too late and she was looking into the deep shaded eyes of a skilled predator.

"Well, well, gentlemen, look what we've got here," the same voice half-whispered close to her ear. "A witch."

"Let me go!" Freya screeched.

"No, love, I don't think so," the monster said, his face stoic with a murderous glint in his eye and pushed her further up against a wall so she was left out of breath. Her mind was foggy and the hold of the hand crushing her neck was now so strong she could barely utter a single world let alone a magical chant to free herself.

"See, darling, I don't know if you've heard of us, but we are The King's Whisperers, ruthless vampires whose specialty is to kill witches…" he paused for added effect "and bring their heads to the King."

The man waited a second for his words to sink in. Horrified and unable to think of a way out, Freya tried to repeat the Futhark poem in her head, but she was unable to concentrate on the verses.

 _What if they discover I can't be killed?_

A single tear slid down her cheek.

 _Will I be their slave forever?_

The predator wiped it away with his thumb, almost gently. The witch jerked her face away in terror.

"Please…please," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I…I…"

"No point in pleading dearie, Lucien's not gonna let you get away!" shouted a raucous voice near her.

"You should be praying you don't die by his hands, he is the most vicious of us all!"

"Prepare to suffer a slow and painful death, whore!"

"We'll take pleasure in killing you!"

"Shouldn't wander the streets alone, cunt!"

"Yeeea, you had it coming!"

"I'd fuck you good and rip your head right off, whore!"

More shouting followed as Freya uttered a sentence that only the predator holding her firmly in place could hear.

"I…I'm a Mikaelson witch…I'll…do…anything."

She spit out blood as she fell to the ground like a ragged puppet. The air was suddenly filled with sputtering sounds, smell of blood, hearts flying and desperate cries for help as the leader of the King's Whisperers suddenly tore apart his fellow twelve legion members in less than a minute.

Then, his features covered in blood and looking at her with heated eyes, Lucien grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her up causing Freya to fall into his arms.

"So you want me to believe you're a Mikaelson witch. I'm warning you now, do _not_ lie to me."

His face was once again inches away from her and there was so much pure hatred in his dark eyes. Intimitated by how close he was, Freya felt herself trembling under his touch.

"I…I am a Mikaelson witch. You…you have no reason to doubt…"

Her speech was interrupted, when she coughed up another mouthful of blood.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, are you going to die on me?" Lucien snapped and before Freya could say anything he'd bitten into his wrist and shoved it into her mouth.

The witch turned away and struggled to get free.

"Drink up," Lucien hissed. "Or I won't be as nice."

Seeing no other way out, Freya squeezed her eyes shut and forced down a little blood. It tasted unusual, but the woman immediately felt her head clear and her magic surge inside her. In that moment she was no longer afraid, she was no longer powerless, she was invincible.

Lucien soon withdrew his hand and demanded:

"There there, now do as I say and prove to me that you are a Mikaelson witch."

And just like that Freya was dragged back into the dangers of reality.

"I swear to you! My name is… Gyda Mikaelson, descendant of the maternal Original li…"

She had no intention of telling this vicious killer he was one of the seven siblings of the Original family.

"Use your powers, witch," Lucien cut in. "Otherwise…"

"Wait!" Freya yelped and slowly looked him in the eye with all the courage she could muster. She had to get out of there _now_ , the moment was upon her, she could almost sense Dahlia getting nearer by every passing second.

"I need to know about the catacombs of Vienna."

Whatever the man was expecting to hear her say this wasn't it.

"How dare you ask _me_ questions?" His voice was pure venom as he reached for her neck. "Let…me…remind…you," he said in a low voice, "that it is _you_ whose life is hanging by a thread here."

"Lucien," Freya quavered. "Te…tell me where they are and…and…" she gasped for air as he gripped her throat forcefully, clearly angered by her attitude, "and I will be your witch for…as long as…I…live."

Once again, she'd hit a nail. Lucien's smirk vanished and he looked at her with disbelief. Then his whole face transformed into a slow, victorious smirk.

"Well," he whispered, his cool breath hitting her neck at an angle that made her wince slightly, "that is precisely what I wanted to hear."

He paused for a moment and continued.

"The catacombs are hidden in the left wing of the Schönbrunn garden, but it's not like you're ever going to see them, love, you're coming with me now."

"Oh," said Freya impulsively taking a step back, "you see, I don't think I will."

Before Lucien could react, the witch had raised her right hand and broken his neck with a light snap of her delicate fingers. Then she proceeded to the cemetery.

 **November 2013, New Orleans**

It was almost night-time and Freya Mikaelson was walking around the buzzing streets of New Orleans and contemplating everything that had happened in the past few months.

In conclusion, life was getting more difficult by the second. First, there was the never ending tension and endless quarrels between her, Klaus and Elijah. Rebekah was in Morocco looking for a way to bring back Kol and the whole family was in disarray without her.

Then there was the threat of the looming prophecy. Elijah's first sire Tristan De Martel was in town and so was the infamous organization called The Strix. All of them devoted to use the ludicrous prophecy as an excuse to try and get rid of the Mikaelsons. Or so it seemed. A masquerade ball was going to be held later tonight in celebration of a society that was mighty indeed.

Davina, a young and ambitious witch was the Regent of the 9 covens now, a dangerous position and one that Freya herself would never be willing to take. The older witch wondered how the peace treaty would hold up with such a young but determined leader in power.

And then there was the devil himself, the man that Freya refused to think about. (But couldn't help herself.) Lucien. Despite Klaus' frequent demands they hadn't met face to face yet, mostly because she was afraid Lucien would recognise her. After all, they hadn't only met in the 1600s but also…well, let's just say, both of their encounters were enough to leave a sharp memory.

Thinking about Lucien made Freya feel uneasy. The little details that he had heard from Klaus suggested that even his brother had no idea why his first sire was in town. Freya suspected his true motives were pretty gruesome, but she didn't interfere, because as it turned out, Lucien was Klaus' first sire. It had been downright impossible to control her emotions, when she discovered that little piece of information from Elijah. Just her luck that the man who had managed to torment her thoughts from time and time again was once also the sidekick of her murderous brother. She'd hid in the compound whenever _he_ was around and prayed every night that not a soul would find about her own connection to the sneaky asshole.

Deep in thought, Freya didn't even hear her phone ring at first. She scoffed audibly, when she saw the caller ID. Of course.

"What is it now, Niklaus?"

"Really, Freya is that the way you greet the brother you've spent your whole life trying to find?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," the witch bit back. "Are you not calling for a favour?"

Freya could hear the telltale sign of a phone being snatched away from Klaus' hand, but nothing could prepare the witch for what was to follow.

"You're absolutely right, love. We need your help."

Freya had to bite her tongue to keep herself from gasping. She'd know that deep, malicious yet silky voice from anywhere. Freya felt herself dangerously unraveling and even more so, the witch suddenly felt utterly cold. It seemed as though her hiding days had officially come to an end.

While Freya was crumbling on the other side of the line, Lucien kept on talking.

" …of mine has gone missing and we must find her, our lives depend on it."

"And I take it, I was the only one willing to answer your call?" she asked trying to understand what he was saying and lighten up a bit.

"Well, you're certainly the loveliest."

The initial surprise was over and Freya was growing livid. Before she could stop herself, the witch snapped:

"Niklaus, please tell your creepy friend that just because he's good-looking doesn't mean I won't turn him inside out and hang what remains from a pole."

"Freya."

Niklaus had returned to the phone, thank god. "I'm asking as your brother."

Too disturbed to keep arguing with either of them Freya reluctantly agreed to help. Before she knew it, she was fiercely pounding on the door of Lucien's penthouse. The adrenaline in her veins was still strong enough to keep Freya from panicking and running away before Lucien could get a single glimpse of her, but she was still very afraid.

"Please, do come in."

Even though the sarcasm in Lucien's voice was evident, Freya barged in, her whole body tense, ready to flee or perhaps, set him in fire.

Then the smell of dried blood hit her, almost making the witch throw up the empty contents of her stomach.

"Ugh, this place smells like dried blood and…bad cologne," she added, somewhat challenging.

"It's just my natural musk," he replied from the other side of the rooom and smirked. "I find the ladies love it."

Freya raised her head and finally met his dark stare. There was no sense of familiarity or recognition in any of his features. He looked at her with an indifferent expression and only vague interest. She fought against all her better instincts not to let out a victorious laughter.

He didn't know.

In fact, he most certainly had no clue in the world of who was standing before him now. Freya Mikaelson couldn't believe her luck. She knew he was powerful, she knew he was cunning, she had been sure Lucien would figure her out in seconds.

Maybe this means he isn't as bad as I thought, Freya mused before doing a locator spell to find his missing friend.

The rest of the night went by a blur. The witch was still beyond relieved, but as the evening progressed she grew more and more distracted. By no other than Lucien Castle. He just wouldn't leave her thoughts today. Involuntarily, Freya found herself thinking back to the second time her and Klaus' sire had crossed paths.

 **Author's Note 2: Also, please rate & review my work, I really want to know, if you liked it and/or how can I improve the story! If you have any ideas considering other pairings besides Frucien or just general plot line ideas, please let me know, I'd love to hear them!**


	2. I Put a Spell on You

**Author's Note: Hello, my lovelies! It took me longer than expected to get the second chapter of this story up and about, but here it is now! A BIG thanks and hugs to all the wonderful people that reviewed my story and/or read it and thank you for all the kind words! You definitely brightened up my day and I'll be sure to check out some of your** **fics** **as well! Thank you so so much :) I hope you enjoy this chapter and please, I look forward to any kind of constructive criticism, ideas about the story and positive feedback you guys might have.**

 **December 1914, New Orleans**

 _What have I gotten myself into now?_ Freya mused as she let her eyes wander across the room. Sneaking into the Mikaelson ball with no other than the notorious Kol Mikaelson himself, now that was something that made her plan to stay low-key for the remaining year downright impossible.

The mansion hall looked superb, a tall Christmas tree stood in the center of the room decorated with gingerbreads, confetti and small glass sculptures. The multiple crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling making the whole room glimmer in silvery white. It was definitely not the setting that was lacking in hospitality, it was the people.

It seemed as though all the witches of the French Quarter were amongst the guests and a good ninety percent of them probably wanted to send Freya (or Simone Rubinstein as they knew her) to the afterworld after inflicting her with a hex of some sort.

 _If you have learned anything in the past, it is that you should know better than to mess with your own kind,_ Freya thought. The way these ancestral witches kept throwing poisonous looks her way was making the witch incredibly anxious.

The eldest Mikaelson had been in the Quarter for about five months. When she first arrived in the City of Jazz, Freya had done a locator spell and assumed that the Mikaelsons were draining countless humans somewhere in Chicago, but to her terror they had returned to New Orleans just two weeks after she set foot to the St. James' Infirmary, her current hiding place from Dahlia. No magic could track her down while she remained put in the Infirmary. However, being a witch, it was almost impossible to go unnoticed or not perform any magic in the quarter and Freya had soon somehow caught the eye of Kol, despite trying to distance herself from her siblings as much as possible in order to not be tempted and reveal her identity to the family she so longed for.

The path Freya had chosen for herself all these centuries ago was a lonely one, but now, almost half a millennium since she fled from Dahlia, the witch was on the edge of breaking free once and for all.

Kol had kept flirting with her for months, pleading that she spell some shady dark objects for him and making all kinds of inappropriate suggestions which constantly made Freya cringe.

I'm your older sister! the woman wanted to yell out every time Kol said something out of the line.

Maybe she should have.

When her younger sibling had asked her to attend the annual Mikaelson ball with him, the little weasel was so persistent that Freya found no other way than to simply say yes, without aggravating her brother greatly.

Besides, a large part of her was curious to finally meet other members of the family. But seeing them all together now, (except Finn, why had they daggered her poor brother, she wondered) participating in idle chit-chat by the staircases and almost _giggly_ , Freya felt as if a sharp metal knife was being jammed in her frozen heart over and over and over again.

The witch was devastated that she couldn't join them and have her own little moment of merriment. But that was not to be.

Mortified, Freya was sipping her fourth glass of champagne when a vision in a loosely fitted bright red taft and satin ball gown appeared before her.

Freya held in a shaky breath. It was her baby sister, Rebekah. _Oh my Lord,_ Freya eyed her sibling. S _he looks even more beautiful in person than I ever imagined._

"You're here with my brother," Rebekah stated.

The witch just nodded, dumbfounded.

"A word of advice," Rebekah added, her brows were knitted together and her stare somewhat flinty. "A witch as lovely as you has no business dating Kol."

"Oh," Freya looked at down, disturbed by the comment. "Well, it's not…it's not really a date."

Rebekah tried to hide her scornful gaze, but failed and the witch could tell that her sister didn't believe Freya for a second.

"You can do better."

The Original vampire smiled politely, lightly caressed her hand and stepped towards her next chit-chat companion.

Before the woman could witness Kol being daggered in front of all the guests, Freya had already made it out of the ballroom and on to the balcony. If she had seen the act of brutality carried out by Klaus, maybe she would have forgotten all her desires to one day be included in the same family.

She felt tears prickling in her eyes as the cold wind blew at her face and she leaned against the railing. It was all too much for the witch. Freya wanted to make Dahlia suffer for all the things she never got to have, because of the monster that ruled her life more than anything.

She had lost her birthright to freedom, dignity, her family.

Love.

The tears were starting to dance on her face. All her life Freya had been a slave. Yes, a slave with considerable power and a vast knowledge of the dark arts, but a slave nonetheless.

"And what might a beautiful creature as yourself be doing outside in such a chilly night?" a low voice mused behind her.

Freya turned around sharply. Whoever this man was, he'd have to go straight back to the ballroom and leave her alone, she was in no mood for…

But the insults she was about to utter died on her lips, when Freya realised who the voice belonged to.

 _It was as if the devil from the past had come back to claim her._

Unconsciously Freya took a step backwards and her spine almost hit the railing.

"I'm sorry, dear, didn't mean to startle you," Lucien apologised, face filled with seemingly genuine worry and stepped closer.

"Are you alright,love?"

" _Incendier motus cerebrum, incendier et mein feigr, incendier motus cerebrum…_ " Freya yelled out in a shaky voice.

Lucien was thrown onto the ground by an unseen force almost instantly and began to wither in excruciating pain. Blood was pooling from his nose and eyes and the vampire's bones began to crack one by one.

"Stop this!" Lucien roared, but Freya's eyes were bewildered and she didn't even notice that she was inflicting enough pain to destroy him, if anything the witch's voice grew louder.

" _Incendier motus cerebrum, incendier et…_ "

"I…mean…no…harm," he croaked, his movements getting weaker and weaker as the spell was drawing to a close.

Just before the spell concluded in a fatal way, Freya's eyes suddenly cleared. The fear and hysteria slowly began to disappear from her usually stoic yet lovely face. The witch looked at the vampire lying on the ground before her, his face clearly twisted from pain, eyes disoriented and dried blood covering his suit jacket and most of Lucien's face. She abruptly stopped chanting, a bit horrified by her own actions and for some reason she found herself kneeling down next to him, concern evident in her green eyes.

"What on Earth possessed you to do that? Do you always try to fry the brains of every strange man who as much as…looks your way" the vampire panted after a tense moment of silence, his eyes still a bit hazy as he looked up to the witch.

Freya was taken aback by his ignorance, she gripped her fingernails in her palm and bit the inside of her cheek.

 _Does he not recognise me?_ the eldest Mikaelson thought.

Then again, it made sense that he didn't. The witch didn't bear any close resemblance to her former 1600s self these days. Her hair was a lot lighter, curly and usually in a tight up-do. Her lips were a crimson red colour today and her skin powdered as light as possible. The clothes she wore were far more extravagant, flashy and _expensive._ They were all courtesy of Kol Mikaelson, her little brother was definitely beyond crazy, trying to charm Freya by buying her new clothes, how laughable.

"Well, do you?" Lucien arched an eyebrow at her and interrupted her thought pattern.

"Do I _what_?"

"Try to fry the brains of extremely handsome, suave, strange men who show obvious concern for your well-being," the vampire stated bluntly, sending her a dirty look.

Freya scoffed at his cocky tone.

"And here I was, almost thinking of healing some of the damage I inflicted."

"I'm not the one who needs to be healed though, now am I?"

Before the witch could reply, Freya was startled by Lucien's fingers closing around her right wrist, gently drawing out patterns with his left thumb.

"You certainly are _powerful,"_ he remarked and then suddenly bent down his head so that his lips quickly brushed against the blue veins of her inner wrist.

Freya cursed her weakness internally as she felt goosebumps appearing on her skin, setting her on fire and _not_ for the right reasons at all.

"But something is causing you a tremendous amount of misery."

Freya jerked her hand away in astonishment and fear as the words reached her. Then she made the mistake of looking in the eyes of the predator before her.

Red veins had begun to form around Lucien's eyes and he was staring at her radiating waves of lust and hunger towards the witch.

Freya jumped up, backing away from the vampire once again.

"Don't ever touch me like that again, beast," she snapped, arms set firmly on her hips, trying to hide her fear.

She didn't know why, but this man made her feel uneasy.

Lucien stood up slowly, an amused grin lingering on his lips. He hadn't expected to get a rise out of her.

"Did I say something to offend you?"

The hunger was still evident in his features, in fact he was looking down at the witch like she was to be the most exquisite pretty little thing he was going to devour for dinner.

Freya gulped audibly. Her gaze drifted down to his body, so well-defined and inviting. _Damn it._ A hidden part of her was perhaps a bit too taken with this murderous charade he kept up. A part of Freya was longing for him to run his fingers through her hair, bend her body to his will and then…

 _What has gotten into you?_ the witch yelled in her mind.

"I…I want you to go," she said with as much venom in her voice as she managed.

Their eyes met in a heated gaze and the air was beginning to thicken around them.

"Fine," he murmured and turned on his heel as if to walk away.

"Thank y…"

The witch never got to thank the predator.

In a flash, Lucien was in front of Freya and had her hands pinned down behind her back. He was so close that the witch could feel his stone-carved upper body pressed against her heaving chest. She had to fight all her basic instincts not to grind against him right then and there. But Lucien only pushed further up against her so that she could feel _all of him._ He smirked when he saw Freya bite her lip to suppress a moan and her hands reached out to grip his shoulders.

"Are you so sure about that, love?" Lucien purred maliciously against the shell of her ear and Freya gasped involuntarily.

Before she could form a coherent thought, Lucien's face had dropped down to her mouth. His lips grazed against the corner of hers as he whispered:

"Because it seemed like an open invitation to me, _Freya._ "

The witch's breathing hitched as her mouth opened slightly and her eyes fluttered closed.

Then Freya felt the cold whiff of air ruffling her hair and opened her eyes. _He was gone._

 **March 2014, New Orleans**

Freya's cellphone beeped on the bedroom cupboard as she was just about to to drift off to deep sleep for the night.

She had a new text from Elijah.

 _Make sure you hide the white oak bullet_ tonight, it read.

"God damn it," Freya swore loudly. She had almost forgotten.

Her phone beeped once again.

 _Seriously, Freya! It needs to be done ASAP._

The woman sighed and put down the book she was reading. Freya honestly didn't feel like digging up Esther's grimoire from the downstairs safe for more incantations and hiding the lethal bullet behind countless cloaking spells this particular evening, but her brother was right. It needed to be done.

Freya leapt down the stairs in the dark and thought miserably: if only Lucien hadn't suggested keeping that stupid little thing. In her opinion, it was far too dangerous, the way her brothers had been toying around with the white oak bullets as though they weren't the _very_ things that could put all of them down forever. Finn and Elijah should've just let the last splinter of it burn to ash.

But instead, here she was, 1 am at night, making up and combining difficult spells to secure and _preserve_ the remaining white oak. And for what? So her brothers and sister could decide when to die one day?

It's not like the rest of us have any choice in the matter, Freya thought, back in her room as she was preparing the various herbs and making salt rings. She was beginning to seethe with fury, just as the woman did every time it occurred to her that she, Freya bloody Mikaelson, was in fact mortal now.

Her anger soon shifted towards Lucien as the basic spells began to take effect. The witch had almost forgotten what a nuisance the first sire always was.

When Freya tried to prevent Davina from breaking the sire link two months ago, Lucien had done nothing but distract and flirt with her. And the unlinking had worked out considerably well for him, too. He was free now since Davina had succeeded and Freya's plans were once again left in jeopardy.

Damn it, she hated this, hated feeling so powerless.

Freya slammed her small hand against the table in desperation. Oh, the joys of being bested by a witch still in high school.

Just today the little weasel had dared to bring her flowers. Ah, yes of course, Lucien was always oh-so-charming, when he was around her, but what were the vampire's true intentions?

Freya hadn't forgotten their two strange encounters over the centuries for a second.

The woman hadn't mentioned these to a living soul, but the first one had straight up terrified her to the bone and the other one…he had been a completely different person. And she had felt _lust_ for him _._ It was a feeling Freya couldn't fathom, but she didn't want to lie to herself.

The witch constantly felt like she was missing something vital about Lucien's behaviour.

It was one thing that he didn't recognise her, although common sense told Freya that even that was questionable. Or was the way they had interacted nothing out of the ordinary for him? Maybe so.

But it seemed more than odd that an ancient vampire who was so cunning, manipulative and obviously power hungry would stay in New Orleans just to let the family he loathed boss him around. Sure, there was the prophecy excuse, but with the sire link undone, did that even count anymore?

Another thing bothering Freya was the obsession Lucien had for Aurora. The redhead psychopath was now behind a wall and the vampire was almost _too_ nonchalant about it.

The man's whole demeanour was wrong, Freya realised suddenly. Almost as if it was…put together down to the last detail. Just like his 1000+ dollar outfits.

 _Fuck_ , the witch cursed as the puzzle pieces in her mind began to take their places.

In a rash decision, Freya got out her amaranth winter coat, stuck the white oak bullet, which she hadn't finished spelling yet, in her pocket and headed to the door. Something told her to go and confront Lucien right now.

The woman opened her car door in a hurry and was just about to drive off, when she noticed someone standing and watching her from afar. The figure moved closer and Freya was relieved to see that it was only…

"Vincent," she greeted. "Is something wrong?"

The older warlock looked at her, his face grim.

"Very much so," the man nodded and before she could register anything, Freya was knocked unconscious by magic.

An hour later, when Freya woke up tied to a chair in the Palace Royale suite and the same ancient vampire she had planned to confront was gloating over her distress, only then did the eldest Mikaelson realise that she was far too late.

Lucien had effectively bested her once more.

 **Author's Note 2: I hope you enjoyed the chapter! The third chapter is going to be a big one, hopefully, I plan to go off-canon from the show in the next chapter.** **(UPCOMING SPOILER hehe, not really)** **Also, it might seem now that Freya is very sad and powerless, but expect that to change soon! :) Her character will undergo a huge development in the upcoming chapters. (END OF SPOILER) Oh, and also, if you guys want, you can follow me on Tumblr, my blog URL name is iamamurderousparadox. I don't have much posts about The Originals, but if you want you can just check it out.**

 **IMPORTANT! I have decided I will be updating on Mondays from now on, I hope you all have a great day :)**


	3. Is It Human to Adore Life?

**Author's Note: I'm terribly sorry that I didn't update on Monday like I promised, but my work and uni schedule has been kinda crazy! And this chapter turned out much longer than expected. In fact, it is so much longer that I had to cut it in half! Anyway, I'll try to update more frequently and I hope you enjoy the chapter! Ideas and constructive criticism or positive comments are always welcome! :)**

 **March 2014, New Orleans**

 _Her little brother, her family, her enemy, her friend, a stranger, her minister and soulmate, her all or nothing, he was dead. Finn was dead._

A silent tear fell over Freya's cheek as Kol passed her the urn of Finn's ashes, pain visible even in his eyes. As Freya tried to think of how to put into words all the pain and sorrow she was feeling, the witch struggled to keep her usual composure and finally began to speak slowly.

"When you were born, you gave me a gift. You were my first friend." The anguish was radiating from the witch's words as she felt the blinding pain of many unshed tears in her eyes that threatened to overwhelm the frail woman, but despite all that Freya kept going. "Today you gifted me… my life and my brothers united, even if for a moment. I love you."

Freya sniffed and stared at her hands, determination taking over her features as she took a handful of ash in her palm.

"Always and forever, brother. Till forever ends."

There was a small moment of silence until the urn was passed on.

Niklaus, being the last one to bid farewell, felt there was really not much to add. But seeing the sorrow in his sister's eyes, hell, even in Kol's shrunken posture, the hybrid had to keep himself from lashing out. _I could kill Lucien with my bare_ _hands right now_ , the hybrid thought.

His face stony, Klaus said the one thing that had always comforted him in these situations.

"Just know… that you will be avenged."

 _Revenge._

Moments passed, but none of them were ready to step away from the bridge just yet. There they stood, a cursed family of four.

"I've lived through so much misfortune, how come it still hurts so fucking much?" Freya finally whispered hoarsely, face devoid of emotions. There was no more pain, just emptiness.

"The people we have loved never truly disappear from our lives, sister."

Elijah had stepped forward, tears glistening in his wise brown eyes. He gently pulled his elder sibling into a hug. Klaus and Kol stood nearby in silent support. "Finn will stay with you forever, in your heart."

"But that's just it, Elijah!"

Freya snatched her brother's arm away.

"I can't…I won't last much longer like this, trapped in this _miserable_ shadow of a life! Haunted by the people I've lost!"

The Mikaelsons were astounded by their eldest sibling's sudden outburst. They listened to Freya's tantrum silently. It was inevitable that even her stoic outlook on life would turn to fire in a miserable day like this. She put so many effort into keeping their family whole that Freya was bound to burn out. None of the brothers just expected that time to come so soon.

"I'm done being a weakling in this family! Look at us, my brothers! And Rebekah…she can't even be here, because we…I failed her! I failed our baby sister! And now Finn…Finn…"

"Freya," Kol stepped up. "Freya, please, let's just get you home."

"No!" the witch screeched.

She mumbled a simple chant and in one deft motion the Mikaelson witch had effectively cloaked herself.

The agitated woman began to run away from them as fast as she could while Klaus howled after her:

"COME BACK! FREYA!"

Several streets passed like a whirlwind, but no matter how many blocks she ran through, Freya's heart was still bleeding, her otherwise wicked mind was in chaos and tears blurred her vision as the makings of this dreadful day flashed before the witch's eyes.

 _Lucien touching Freya's cheek gently as the witch hazel ropes burned her fair skin._

At this point Freya began running frantically, but the pictures just wouldn't leave her head.

 _Finn and Elijah arriving suddenly, saving her before Lucien could finish her off._

"Please," Freya panted as her legs finally gave away.

 _Finn falling through the air, screaming in indescribable pain._

Her feet hit the ground hard, the asphalt scratching Freya's skin open, the fresh blood staining her clothes.

 _Lucien viciously hovering over her smiling while Freya struggled to form a barrier to protect Elijah, Finn and Vincent._

The witch sobbed uncontrollably, racked from guilt. If only she'd done more to help Finn.

 _"_ _You keeping the boundary spell up? I don't doubt it, you little minx," Lucien's voice echoed from afar._

The eldest Mikaelson lay on the ground and wailed, making no effort to get up. A lot of time had passed before minute by minute, her sobs began to quiet down. When the woman eventually felt like she could move herself, the first thing Freya did was to heal her gaping wounds.

The witch winced as she felt her cuts slowly disappearing and the energy leaving her body. That made Freya feel weaker than ever and without a hint of doubt the woman decided that six shots of tequila, albeit long overdue, were the only solution to end this agonising day.

The woman leapt up and limped to the St. James' Infirmary, which was only a few hundred metres away.

 _If I accidentally find myself so close to the nearest liquor supply even in my hazy state, I really must be a hopeless alcoholic,_ Freya mused bitterly before entering.

The witch didn't get any further than the bar's doorstep though, since the Infirmary was quieter than someone's grave. That astounded Freya greatly and the witch glanced at her watch. It was only 10:30 p.m., where the hell was everyone? Where was the booze? She glanced over the entire bar once more. The bar had appeared to be empty, but Freya's vision had skipped Davina and Vincent, who were apparently having a seemingly pretty heated discussion about something.

Freya backed away from the doorstep. She had no desire to eavesdrop. But that plan was thrown out of the window, when the witch heard a fragment of something that struck her as more than odd.

"…cestors have a pretty strong say in what I can and cannot do."

Freya gasped and inched closer. Since when could ancestors control people's actions in the real world? It was as if…

"They're manipulating Kol, too."

 _Manipulating Kol? Meddling with her little brother's thoughts? But how was that even…?_

"Yeah," Vincent nodded along.

"I tested his blood, it's infused with their magic, which means they corrupted the spell I used to bring him back. They couldn't get to me so…"

Freya stormed out of the Infirmary. The witch didn't need to hear any more of their discussion. It was as if all the light bulbs in her head were switched on all at once. She left Davina and Vincent to finish their conversation and made it out onto the street in a hurry.

The woman agreed that Davina was heartbroken and distraught from all the crap the Ancestors had forced the young Harvest Girl to put up with. But the ancestral spirits manipulating Kol just for the sake of getting through to Davina, now that just didn't make any sense.

Freya began walking again, unsure if she should laugh or cry. Or do both with the same ferocity. Never before had anything made things as crystal clear to the witch as the conversation she'd just overheard by accident.

The witch kept her eye out for any strange movements since she didn't wish to become a Quarter vampire's bedtime snack. She couldn't go back home now, not without checking something first.

The Lafayette cemetery seemed like a perfect fit for the thing Freya was about to do, if only her mind wasn't swirling around so much. One thought kept surfacing persistently. There was no way any ordinary witch could corrupt a dark spell as powerful as the one that Davina had used to bring back Kol. Hell, the eldest Mikaelson would have bet good money that even a talented bunch of powerful witches like the Ancestors couldn't possibly pull off a trick of that caliber. Actually, Freya had only known one person who had been successful at overthrowing a force with the equal power of Nexus Vorti.

And of course, the said witch was no other than Dahlia.

The more Freya thought about it, the more it made sense. After the events of last spring her siblings had easily assumed that Dahlia and Esther somehow found peace in the abyss, whereas the eldest Mikaelson sister remained skeptical for a little while.

It just didn't add up. Dahlia had a lot of unfinished business among the living and so did Esther. Freya couldn't bring herself to call the woman 'mother', even in her mind. Then there was the case of immortality. What if Dahlia had a few tricks upon her sleeve, even in her death?

What if the Killing Ground didn't work as it was supposed to?

But the months went by and Freya's skepticism began to wither. Nothing strange had happened, so it was probably safe to say that the powerful witches were no longer present in this world.

Or so they had been constructed to think.

It was ridiculous that Freya hadn't figured this out sooner. Using other people as puppets to do her dirty work, it was a classic Dahlia move.

And creating a creature that was stronger than her siblings, well, only Esther possessed the means to carry out that spell. After all, she'd done it before with Mikael. And someone else named Alaric.

As Freya reached the Lafayette cemetery gates, the persistent urge to rip out her aunt's jugular with her bare hands intensified. She just wanted to tore something to shreds with her bare hands. Or maybe smack herself senseless in the process, because God, was it really Freya herself who had been so intolerably ignorant.

"I put up with you for centuries, I lost my child, my entire family, my chance for happiness, I suffered through everything!"

The young woman bellowed loudly as she entered the hollowed ground, her voice ringing through the entire cemetery. "Maybe I couldn't recognise you at first, but I sure as hell have now! Show yourself, Dahlia!"

For a moment, everything was silent.

Freya was not fooled by the silence for a second. If it weren't for the air that was charged with a strange electricity the witch had felt it the moment she stepped inside the cemetery territory, then it was difficult to mask the spirits floating above her head. Freya could sense them, she could practically hear them whispering.

The eldest Mikaelson simply waited.

Soon enough, the wind picked up and raised Freya up from the ground, leaving her to levitate slightly above the concrete vaults. The witch didn't even wince, she had expected as much.

"You have to stop being such fucking cowards if you want to defeat me! "

Freya's voice was shaking from rage. Although, the woman didn't bother using any spells in her defence. What good would that do? Freya was many things and disillusioned was certainly one of them.

In her current state, no longer immortal and with average witch powers, the eldest Mikaelson was no match for Dahlia, Esther or the ancestral spirits. Unfortunately, she had learned that before the hard way.

The only thing left to do was to try and aggravate the sisters verbally.

"What is it, can't bring yourselves to kill me? Your pretty puppet boy already tried tod…" Before the woman could finish, she was thrown against one of the cemetery vaults before the witch spirits dropped her down harshly.

The last thing Freya could sense was the taste of her own warm, coppery blood filling her mouth. After that, the witch's heart stopped.

Freya could feel the sun dancing on her eyelids and smiled to herself. The warmth shone right through her and the woman let out a loud yawn before opening her eyes.

Freya realised she was lying on the comfortable canopy bed in a shade of deep burgundy. The silk sheets caressed her skin as the witch sat up abruptly. It would have all been perfect if the bed wasn't standing in the middle of…a garden…outside?

Weirdly enough, it was like something out of "Alice in Wonderland". The garden stretched out endlessly before Freya's eyes. Gnomes were staring at the witch from every corner; roses, orchids and gardenias were blooming in all shapes and colours, from fuchsia to lime green; friendly looking bees were buzzing peacefully in the air; a lonely white rabbit was casually eating a small dandelion flower near a small pond and two busy squirrels were busy climbing up a giant dotted mushroom. It was surreal.

About fifty metres from this fake dreamland stood a giant dinner table with Esther and Dahlia sitting across from each other in massive Louis XIV antique style armchairs.

The women's attire was even more odd than their surroundings. Esther was wearing a long white chiffon frock laced with silver embroidery and Dahlia had on a revealing cherry red velvet dress with a veil of the same colour. Was this a book celebration party taken to the next level or something? There just didn't seem to be any other valid reason why her mother and aunt would dress up as the White and the Red Queen from "Alice in Wonderland"?

Wait, Alice in Wonderland? Really?

Freya gasped, when she felt the memories flooding back to her. One in particular floated through her subconscious: being thrown against a concrete cemetery vault and…waking up here of all places. With the women she'd helped to kill. Which meant…

"Freya, dear, why don't you come and join us!"

"Your mother's right, you're just in time for another piece of blueberry pie!"

The young witch winced when the women's voices called out to her suddenly and looked towards the dinner table once more only to find Esther staring at her with a pitiful glint in the Elder's eyes.

Hastily Freya rummaged through the garden to face the two people who had permanently scarred the witch in the last millennium and for all the years to come.

"Stop fucking with my head!" she yelled and banged her fist against the table before the other women could say anything else.

"No appreciation for magic tricks as per usual, Freya" Dahlia sighed theatrically, not bothering to even look at her niece properly.

"Sit down, my dearest."

Esther's voice was far more quiet and gentle yet imperative.

The lethal glance that Freya sent her mother's way could have burnt down entire villages.

"First, you somehow manage to off me and then you want to have dinner with your _dearest_? Well, isn't that just fucking mighty generous of you?" the eldest Mikaelson sibling howled.

"And what's with the Alice in Wonderland theme? For once, you should both stop being so bloody timid and at least have the courage to show me my own corpse!" Freya continued, tears starting to sting her eyes.

 _I will not allow these monsters even a glimpse of my tears_ , the witch thought, and tried to stubbornly surpass the urge to just bury her head in her hands. _Not now, not ever._

"Oh, would you please calm down already," Dahlia scoffed at Freya and then slowly turned her gaze to Esther. "Your eldest always had a flare for the dramatics."

" _Amorphe muto anteactus verto_ ," the raven-haired witch muttered.

In less than a second, the sweet false reality of cutesy animals and blossoming flowers was gone. Instead, it was replaced with the bleak scenery of the Lafayette cemetery in the nighttime. It was as if the three of them were back in the real world, except…

Freya cried out in deep anguish, when she noticed her motionless body lying on the ground near one of the vaults. The bloodied face plus the limbs stilled in weird angles made it crystal clear that she was in fact dead.

"Happy?" Dahlia asked, entertained by Freya's reaction.

"Hush, sister," Esther silenced her. "Remember, we are not here to gloat over our own flesh and blood."

The Mikaelson patriarch turned to look at her daughter.

"You must pay attention to everything that we have to say, Freya," Esther ordered and for once Dahlia nodded along with her.

The rebellious young witch opened her mouth to say something, but Dahlia had on her trademark sadistic Mikaelson scowl so Freya thought better of it.

"Just to clarify," Esther continued, "when we are finished here, you'll be sent back to the living world."

"And how exactly do you plan to send me back?" Freya interrupted, the witch's face was devoid of emotion, but her heart was beating rapidly against the ribcage.

"One more word, Freya and I'll be forced to spell your mouth shut!" her aunt snarled at the witch. The Elder was getting more and more annoyed with Freya's antics. Seeing the way Dahlia behaved, it was easy to guess, where Klaus and Rebekah got their temper from.

Esther, seemingly unfazed, made no attempt to soften her sister's words before continuing, where she left off.

"Every living soul whose life has been taken directly by the ancestors' hands can be brought back by the same people who killed the said person," her mother explained coolly. "Freya, you have to trust us that brutally murdering you was the last option in the book. And I'm sorry, but it needed to be done as soon as possible. After all, Lucien nearly ruined our chance to complete the ritual, when he attempted to off you today. I assure you that he _will_ be punished for disobeying us."

Unknowingly, Freya had winced at the last statement.

Esther paused and motioned for Dahlia to continue.

"When I and your mother died this spring, it quickly became clear that there are some preconditions for peace in the ancestral world," the other witch began, eyes narrowed at Freya. "Apparently, Esther and I didn't _handle you_ as we should have, while we were still alive."

Freya didn't even try and disguise her loud scoff as a polite cough. Dahlia carried on.

"So now we're faced with a choice. We could atone our sins by providing you with certain abilities, which will help you take down Lucien and put an end to the prophecy the said vampire created for his own amusement or we could wait it out in the ancestral plane and eventually go insane like the rest of the spirits here."

Dahlia paused for effect and chuckled.

"Except for the fact that we eliminated all of them one by one, of course."

"I can't believe it was the two of you all along!" Freya screeched. "Meddling with our minds, making your own blood see demons in places even if there were none present! You forced Vincent to turn Lucien into a creature that could wipe out our entire family!"

Freya ran out of air, breathed in deeply and looked Esther square in the eye, hatred sparkling in her green orbs.

"Your beloved Finn is dead because of _you, mother_!"

A single tear sped its way down Esther's cheek.

"I never meant for any of this to happen," the witch pleaded with her daughter. "Our dearest Finn might be gone but you, Freya! You still have a chance! Let us transfer you our powers so you can become the person you were always destined to be!"

Freya stilled when her mother's words suddenly dawned on her.

"That…that is not possible," she half-whispered. "No transfer magic for spells in that level of difficulty even exists."

"You naive little child," Dahlia cooed. "I see you're still stuck with the old rules of witchcraft. These regulations you speak of with such conviction have never applied to the witches of New Orleans."

Freya tried and failed to hide her confusion.

"Care to elaborate?" she finally spat out.

"Like I said before, in the months that we've been here, we've managed to destroy all the other ancestral spirits that were residing here before us and we have also absorbed all of their power," Dahlia stated, a hint of pride in the Elder's voice.

"And now you want me to have all of it? Do you realise I'd be the most powerful witch that ever existed?" Freya gasped in disbelief.

 _This seems far too good to be true_ , the young witch made a mental note to herself.

"Yes, my dear!" Esther nodded her head encouragingly. "There's no use of having a tremendous amount of power, when you can't use it properly."

"Can't? Could have fooled me, when you knocked me dead against a stone vault!" Freya snapped.

"Oh, please," Dahlia eyed her almost pitifully. "Even you should know that it's not something we can do regularly. It took an enormous amount of mystical energy to directly interfere with the real world."

"Mystical energy which you seem to have an endless supply of!" Freya bit back once more.

"The ancestral world turns people insane, Freya!" Esther growled, finally losing her carefully maintained self-control. "It slowly eats away at you from the inside until you lose _everything_ you hold dear! Including your sanity! It is a fate worse than death!"

Freya's skin paled slightly and for a moment the witch couldn't help but feel sorry for the two matriarchs before her. But then she reconsidered.

"Enough chatter," Dahlia raised a hand as if to silence the other two women. "It's not an easy incantation, Esther, and we don't have that much time."

"I don't trust either of you one bit," Freya stated, folding her arms together and taking a doubtful step back. "How do I know that you're not playing me?"

"You don't," Dahlia shrugged. "But it's either back to the living world or an eternity here with us."

Freya gulped and her green eyes filled with horror. It was like there really wasn't a choice to make. The young witch desperately wanted to know more about the ritual, but she also knew that whatever the two elders would say to her, she would still choose to go through with it. No spell, hex or curse could ever be worse than the second option that Dahlia mentioned.

"What does this spell entail exactly?" Freya asked, nervously fiddling with the pendant around her neck.

"We donate you all the powers and abilities me and my sister currently possess and when we've finished the spell will take you back to the real world, whereas we disappear, having found peace," Esther explained.

"And there is no ulterior motive in the mix?" Freya asked, suspicion radiating from her voice.

"Yes! Of course that doesn't mean I _like_ the idea of leaving all my considerable abilities and gifts in your ungrateful hands," Dahlia snapped, growing impatient. "We have to start the spell now, Freya."

Freya's suspicion was only intensifying, but she did join her hands together with the two witches reluctantly, forming a small circle. In the middle of the circle lay Freya's lifeless body.

The youngest of the three witches was shaking like a leaf. A million thoughts flooded her brain. Her sorrow for Finn, fear of the spell not working, the fact that Dahlia and Esther had actively worked with Lucien.

 _Maybe they were the ones who ordered Lucien to kill Finn?_ Freya thought. _No, that was beyond ridiculous._

Esther and Dahlia both began chanting resolutely, their eyes were closed and heads held high. Freya couldn't understand a word of what was being said, they were speaking so fast, but the chanting went on and on for about 10 minutes. The young witch finally felt a small electric jolt of power surge inside her, but as soon as she'd felt that little tickle of minuscule power the chanting abruptly stopped.

"It's done," said Esther.

"That's it?" Freya asked, more suspicious than ever.

"Don't let go of our hands," snarled Dahlia. "It hasn't begun to take effect yet."

"Or maybe the spell just didn't work!"

"It did," Esther confirmed. "We have about two minutes before Dahlia and I disappear forever and you'll be reunited with your body."

The three witches were silent for a moment as the time ticked by.

"Any last words?" Freya said harshly, when there was about a minute and a half left.

"Freya, my little angel," Esther began, but Dahlia interrupted her.

"Actually, I have some."

A slow smirk was beginning to take over the raven-haired witch's features and something about Dahlia's demeanour seemed very sinister.

"You see, I added an extra clause to the incantation," the witch began. "Even if you do try to help your family and slaughter every enemy on your way, my spell guarantees that the one person who poses the biggest threat to the Mikaelsons will remain unkillable."

"Dahlia! Why would you sabotage Freya this way?" Esther gasped.

"What did you do?" screamed Freya and tried to pull her hand free from the evil woman.

"Let go of my hand and you'll be stuck here forever," hissed the Elder witch and tightened the grip on her niece's wrist

"Don't let go!" Esther echoed.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?"

"Relax, darling. I simply linked your life to Lucien's permanently," Dahlia shrugged. "You see, I actually happen to like talented villains."

Before Freya could say or do anything in regards of that statement, the Mikaelson sisters had disappeared into thin air.

It took just three more seconds for the rest of the spell to kick in. The remaining Mikaelson immediately felt a thick fog clouding her thoughts almost immediately. Then she fell to the ground, unconscious.

Freya's eyes snapped open and the witch coughed up blood. As soon as the coughing stopped, the woman jumped up quickly and looked around herself. It was so dark that she couldn't even make out the contours of her own hands.

"Luminos incendio," Freya muttered.

She was not prepared for the hundreds of excessively bright rays of light hitting her eyes. It was as if the sun had risen over the horizon. Freya glanced a quick look at the sky and gasped. The sun was out. And the Mikaelson witch hadn't even felt the usual slight energy loss from performing magic.

Freya couldn't help it and let out a hearty laugh. She hadn't ever expected to acquire that amount of power.

Immortality and an ability to alter the fucking weather, when she pleased, what more could a girl want, right?

It seems that dear auntie's plan fell through, Freya thought, when she smoothed out the lightning in the cemetery, a smile appearing on her face.

Suddenly, she was not too worried about being linked to Lucien. With the vast mystical energy in her possession, surely there was a way to sever the connection between the two of them. And meanwhile, she could still make that arrogant vampire suffer in ways beyond his imagination.

The witch pulled out her phone and was just about to alert her siblings on the recent shocking developments, when she saw the new messages from Klaus and Elijah.

Freya gritted her teeth together, when she read what they said.

Klaus: _Aurora's gone. Lucien made enough serum for two. Go figure._

Elijah: _Freya, we're about to face a showdown with two beasts. I think it's best if you get back to the compound immediately._

Well, this certainly made things more difficult.

While Freya reminded herself that she was no longer in any danger, Elijah, Kol, Rebekah and Klaus still were. The one thing that the Mikaelson witch didn't want to do now was to underestimate Lucien yet again.

First of all, Freya didn't know what kind of spells would hold the beasts down and for how long.

And secondly, she had to sever that unnecessary link somehow, before Freya could kill him. The woman realised that her renowned immortality only made that assignment more difficult.

She saw only one way out.

Freya sent a short text to both Klaus and Elijah.

 _Sorry, can't make it to the compound. Something came up. Prophecy business , etc. Keep you updated._

Freya knew that her brothers would demand explanations as soon as they received the text, but the family drama would have to be postponed. Eager to explore the endless supply of power gifted to her less than an hour ago, she whispered:

"Apparatus incantatum, fairle sisientum."

The witch was not that surprised, when she found herself in front of the Palace Royale suite, Lucien's current in habitat. Freya knocked on the door impatiently.

"Who is it?" Lucien barked from the distance. "I'm in the company of a very beautiful woman and I would kindly suggest…"

Freya didn't wait for Lucien to finish his sentence and instead used magic to knock the door off its hinges easily.

The two vampires in the room looked at her dumbfounded as she stepped into the room.

Freya smiled her sweetest smile at Lucien, completely dismissing Aurora.

"Well, hello there, stranger."

 **Author's note: I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please, if you have anything nice or not so nice to say haha, feel free to leave a review! Some of you said that Lucien probably hasn't forgotten Freya. Well, it's safe to say that you're on the right track with that statement. But the way it will be revealed or in what context is a story that will not be explored for quite some time. Maybe in Chapter 7 or so. Originally, there was supposed to be a Frucien confrontation in this chapter, but that's now scheduled for Chapter 4. Which I will post as soon as I can. I hope all of you have a good weekend!**


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